Getting To The Bottom Of Things
by SlackJawedSmurf
Summary: Harry knows he has some very important questions to ask Malfoy. Being drunk just makes the whole thing easier. 'Are you nefarious' 'Yes. And dastardly. Incredibly dastardly.' Harry/Draco, alcohol. And hopefully a little humour.


'Are you nefarious?'

Malfoy blinked at him owlishly. That was odd. Malfoy wasn't usually owlish. He was...ferrety. 'I beg your pardon?'

'Nefarious. Are you up to nefarious things?' Harry pressed.

'Oh.' Malfoy smirked slightly, though he still looked largely bewildered. Harry wasn't sure why. It was a perfectly reasonable question. And just asking outright was easier than sneaking and following. Sneaking and following lead to drinking firewhiskey on the stairs. With Malfoy. Who was still talking. 'Yes. I'm nefarious. And dastardly. Incredibly dastardly.'

'I thought as much.' Harry nodded sagely. He has always suspected Malfoy of being nefarious. Ron and Hermione would be pleased to know that he'd been right. Harry'd be able to say _I told you so, _and he never got to say that to Hermione, especially about Malfoy. Who was talking again.

'May I enquire as to why exactly you are asking?'

'Sure.' There were a few beats of silence, in which Harry took the opportunity to smirk at Malfoy. He could see why Malfoy liked it so much. Smirking was _fun_.

He could hear Malfoy's teeth grinding. 'Why are you asking, Potter?' His teeth didn't look ground-up. They looked pearly and white and minty. Harry wondered what flavour toothpaste Malfoy used. He probably didn't use any, he probably used magic. Ponce.

'Because I wanted to do something, and I don't think I can do the thing I want to do if you're up to nefarious and dastardly things. How do you brush your teeth?' Harry explained.

'How much have you had to drink, Potter?' Malfoy accused, in an unnecessarily accusatory way.

'No as much as you!' Harry denied, despite the fact that the world had continued swaying after he shook his head. It could be magic causing that. 'Magic causes all kinds of weird things.'

Malfoy blinked at him again. It was probably because his stupid blonde soft hair was falling in his eyes. Harry had got to mess it up when Draco had challenged him to a "who has the softest hair competition." Draco had won, but he also had messy hair now, whereas Harry's hair was always messy. So who was the real winner, really?

'It's probably me.' Harry confided.

'It probably is.' Malfoy sighed heavily. 'It's always you. You and your stupid... Chosen One-ness.'

Harry giggled, in a manly way. He was probably the man in this conversation, because Malfoy was pretty with soft hair, and men weren't pretty with soft hair. 'Chosen One-ness isn't a word.'

'Of course it is.' Malfoy insisted petulantly.

'No, it's not. I'm the Chosen One, I should know.'

'Yes, it is. Look it up.'

Harry looked around helplessly. 'I don't have a dictionary.'

Malfoy shrugged. 'You'll have to take my word for it then, Potter.'

'Damn.' Harry said forlornly, and leaned his head on Malfoy's shoulder, in an expression of his forlornitude. 'Malfoy, is forlornitude a word?'

Malfoy patted him on the knee, comfortingly. 'You poor, stupid child. I feel sorry for the poor people whose lives depend on you.' He didn't move his hand.

'Do you depend on me?' Harry asked.

'No. I depend on no one. NO ONE.' He bellowed, for no apparent reason. 'Except maybe Pansy.' He whispered the last part, presumably because he liked the contrast to shouting. Harry had given up trying to understand the Malfoy brain.

'Maybe your shampoo seeped into your brain and made it wired wrong. Ponce.' Harry suggested. Malfoy looked affronted.

'I don't use shampoo. It's a stupid Muggle thing.'

Harry felt indignant on behalf of shampoo. Shampoo was fantastic. 'It makes bubbles, Malfoy.'

'I do like bubbles.' Draco conceded.

'And sometimes it smells like strawberries.' Harry didn't have strawberry shampoo. His shampoo was manly and virile. Malfoy was the sort of person who'd like strawberries though.

'I do like strawberries.' Harry would have told Malfoy how smug he felt, but he suspected he'd slurred a bit more than a sober man should when he last spoke, and so he kept the 's's inside. 'Potter?'

'Hmm?' Harry tried not to say yes.

'What's shampoo?'

Harry giggled in a manly way again.

'You sound like Pansy.' Draco commented.

'I don't either.' Harry objected. 'Why Pansy?'

Draco looked at him pityingly. 'Because you both giggle.'

'No, why do you depend on Pansy?' Harry decided that Draco would probably laugh at him if he explained how manly and virile he was, and Harry didn't really want Draco to leave.

'Because she scares me a bit.' Draco revealed. 'So I let her have her way. Mostly.'

'Oh.'

'Sometimes,' Draco whispered, 'I let her stroke my hair.' Harry felt a slight alcohol numbed tingle go down his spine when Draco lifted the hand that wasn't on Harry's knee into his hair, and stroke it clumsily.

Harry felt like he should share a secret too. 'Your hair is lovely without shampoo.'

'I know,' said Draco smugly. 'Pansy just makes it greasy.'

'Did I make it greasy?' Harry worried. He took his head off Draco's shoulder, to peer more closely at his hair.

'No, you have boy hands.' Draco leered slightly. 'I _like_ it when boy hands touch me.'

Harry leaned forwards, and put his mouth against Draco's ear, because this was the most important secret, one he hadn't even told Ron and Hermione. And he _liked_ Ron and Hermione, way more than he liked Draco. Even if Draco did touch his hair. 'I think I like it when boy hands touch me, too.'

Draco breathed in sharply, and looked down at the hand still on Harry's knee. Harry followed his gaze. Draco moved the hand up his leg, onto his thigh, experimentally. Harry twitched slightly.

'Oh,' said Harry.

'Oh.' Confirmed Draco. 'Potter?'

'Yeah?' Harry breathed.

'What was it you wanted to do to earlier?'

There was only a split second of hesitation before Harry let his lips ghost over Dracos, the lightest kiss he could give, as Draco pressed forwards into it unsteadily.

Harry pulled away. 'Are you really up to dastardly, Death Eater activities?' He knew that this had been important earlier, when he had been sober.

Draco leaned forwards again. 'Just nefarious. Not Death Eaterly.'

Harry would have taken the time to consider this further, but somehow his lips had reattached themselves to Draco's. It was probably magic.

'Magic causes all kind of weird things.' He explained, against Draco.

'So does alcohol.' Draco agreed.


End file.
